


Social Species

by TheFictionFairy



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Miscommunication, Nonverbal Communication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 20:05:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9140227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFictionFairy/pseuds/TheFictionFairy
Summary: Speaking the same language doesn't necessarily mean understanding each other.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



 

Newt Scamander had an undeniable gift with creatures, both magical and mundane. It was one of the things Tina had learned to appreciate about him. He could befriend a skittish stray cat in an instant or look at a huge, roaring monster and infer exactly how to calm it, almost as if by instinct. It was fascinating to watch. And beneath that obvious talent was a kind, shy man that Tina found herself desperately wanting to know better.

The problem was that he was constantly disappearing into that suitcase of his, so actually spending any significant amount of time with him required spending an equally significant amount of time with his menagerie. Well, alright, that wasn’t necessarily a problem, according to what she’d witnessed of Queenie and Kowalski as they wandered through the constructed landscapes, peacefully admiring the inhabitants.

No. _Tina_ was the problem. Apparently. The last time she’d gone down there to visit with Newt had been… well, they’d not gone smoothly. To say the least.

The first few times had been fine – she’d chatted with him and kept her hands to herself, standing well away from anything that looked like it could maul or poison her (which, admittedly, was most of the creatures down there). Eventually, though, the small talk had petered out. Neither of them seemed to be particularly good at it, come to think of it. Tina preferred to be direct, but the lack of direction in her visits ( _getting to know him_ just sounded so soppy to her) had left her floundering.

And poor Newt, the sweet fool, had been left to pick up the conversational slack. Which, as anyone who had made his acquaintance could tell you, was when things really began to go downhill.

He’d reverted to his default, which seemed to be interacting with the creatures he understood so as not to blunder along with the humans he didn’t. So he’d begun telling her about the care of some creature from the southern tip of South America – a beautifully-colored feathered… _thing_ with plumage that looked something like a cross between a peacock and a lionfish that glowed faintly along the striped markings. Apparently they had been hunted to near-extinction because their roasted flesh had addictive properties.

“They’re molting now, so we help them along. They’re incredibly social creatures, you see – usually they’d be living in groups as large as a hundred…” he paused for a moment, and Tina caught him mentally counting his own little flock – less than twenty. Sadness darkened his face for a moment, but he quickly collected himself and continued. “Yes, well, they need social grooming to thrive, so we pitch in for the… lack.”

He demonstrated for her, gently running his fingers through the slightly-scruffy plumage of the one he’d coaxed onto his lap, removing the bent or shabby feathers that he found and carefully dropping them all into a basket at his side. After a few minutes, he looked up at her expectantly.

Tina froze. She’d never been good with animals. But she could do this, right? It didn’t look hard. Just pluck the bad feathers. She began to look helplessly around her, at the other specimens perched just slightly too high in the tree for her to reach.

Tina was half a heartbeat away from whipping out her wand for a summoning spell when Newt gently pressed the… bird?... he’d been holding into her arms.

“Here,” he said gently, very close but not looking into her eyes – instead seemingly talking down to the creature in their shared grasp. “This is Helen. She’s the matriarch – the oldest and the calmest. Most used to human interaction. That’s actually how I got the flock, you see – where the matriarch goes, the others follow.” He stepped back. “Yes. Well. I’ll just.” He turned to the tree and began to make strange cooing noises, accompanied by an odd fluttering hand gesture that, against all logic, was actually succeeding in summoning another of the creatures out of its nest.

“Alright. Um. Helen,” Tina said, taking her cue from how Newt often spoke to his creatures. Tina tried to imitate Newt’s firm but gentle tone, but coming from her it sounded a bit thin and tight. The animal looked back up at her, meeting her eyes with its own pearlescent ones, and Tina had no idea what its expression could mean.

Well, it – Helen – wasn’t hissing or scratching or biting, so that must be good enough. Tina attempted (with limited success) to shift the bird to one arm so that her other hand would be free for plucking. The creature began to shiver, almost imperceptibly, but it still wasn’t attacking, so that must be a good sign?

Tina did as she had seen Newt do and patted her way down the creature’s back. When she found a bent feather and put her fingers around it, the bird went still. Still no objections, so Tina plucked.

And all hell broke loose.

Twenty minutes later, after Newt had managed to wrest her out of the pecking, scratching tornado of squawking hell-birds that had encircled her at the shriek of the creature in Tina’s arms, they sat in his little antechamber workshop. He was fluttering about, applying a poultice to her scratches, and she was trying desperately not to cry with embarrassment.

Tina was angry at herself, at the rainbow chickens, and, irrationally, a bit angry at Newt as well. He made it all look so effortless. And Tina was a go-getter – she’d never failed so immediately and brutally at something that should be easy.

“I don’t understand,” Tina began, taking refuge in her frustration so she wouldn’t slip into self-pity. “I didn’t do anything wrong. It was–,”

“She,” Newt interrupted, still not meeting Tina’s eyes.

“What?” Tina’s mental rant stuttered for a moment, but she continued, “that thing just–,”

“She,” Newt interrupted again, sharper this time, dropping the pestle onto his workbench a bit sharply. Tina jumped. Newt glanced up at her and then back down, quickly going about grinding more of the berries that had gone into her poultice. “She’s not a thing,”

“Alright. Animal,” Tina continued, not sure why they were arguing semantics. “It–,”

“ _No_ ,” Newt interrupted again, and this time Tina froze. He was not usually so combative. She was missing something he was trying to tell her.

At her silence, Newt look up again, meeting her eyes briefly before beginning to tidy up his workbench. “She. Helen. She’s not a thing. And she doesn’t ‘just’ do anything. No living thing does. There’s always a reason. Something that makes sense to them – they react with their emotions. She was frightened, and the flock responded to her fear.”

“But I didn’t do anything…” Tina trailed off. Had she? Done something frightening? She didn’t know. She didn’t know what was frightening to a rainbow chicken.

There hadn’t been much to say after that, and Newt and Tina’s parting had been stilted and awkward.

* * *

People, Tina Goldstein could handle. She knew people – knew what scared or angered or delighted a person, even if she wasn’t always so great at coaxing the exact reactions she wanted. So then, why were animals so hard? Cats liked yarn, elephants were scared of mice, birds needed to be groomed…

“Oh, Honey, I think that might be your problem,” Queenie commented over her shoulder as she finished preparing dinner.

Some people found it irritating when her sister commented on their private thoughts, but it hadn’t phased Tina for years. “My problem?”

“Well, it’s just like you thought – you can figure out what a person wants. But not all people want or need the same thing.” A casual wave of the wand set the table as they both sat down to eat.

Tina took a bite of Queenie’s casserole as she chewed on that idea. The food was delicious, as usual. Queenie giggled quietly at the unspoken praise, but left her sister to her thoughts, sensing that she was on the right track.

* * *

When Tina next sought Newt out, he was already inside the suitcase. She crouched in front of it and knocked smartly on the top.

No answer. Was he deliberately ignoring her, or was he just busy? Tina considered for a moment and then decided on the latter. She knew how distracted he could get, and he wasn’t sly or spiteful enough for backhanded insults. She opened the case and climbed in.

She found him among the miniature flock of rainbow chickens that she had _not_ had a nightmare about, thank you very much. Newt looked up abruptly, startled by her sudden and unannounced approach. A few of the chickens fluttered their wings nervously, and Tina tried not to wince.

“I… I want to try again,” she said, voice soft but determined. She hoped he understood what she was trying to tell him, because it would make her feel ridiculous to actually beg to be allowed further into his world.

“Are you sure?” Newt asked, absentmindedly stroking the bird in his lap. For once, he was meeting her eyes. Tina nodded firmly.

“Very sure.”

Newt maneuvered one of the last ungroomed birds into her arms. Tina took special care to focus on the creature instead of Newt this time, making the transfer as smooth and secure as possible.

Still, when Newt stepped away, the little creature began to shake in her arms.

“Now, now. It’s – it’s alright,” Tina tried to soothe with a soft voice. It wouldn’t do to push forward with the thing frightened.

The thing. Oh.

“What’s this one’s name?” Tina called gently to Newt, who was halfheartedly going about other chores while still keeping an eye on the unsure pair.

“Apolla. She’s a bit young.”

_And nervous_ , Tina realized.

Tina backed onto one of the benches along the edges of the habitat and sat as smoothly as she could. At a loss for what to do to comfort Apolla, she began to hush and rock her as she and Queenie had done with their dolls as children. Apolla went still.

For half a moment, Tina thought she’d been successful, but then she took a closer look. The bird wasn’t shaking anymore, true, but she seemed… stiff. Frozen.

“Alright,” Tina muttered to her, stilling, “no rocking.” After a few seconds, Apolla began to relax. Tina looked up at Newt and caught a hint of his smile before he turned away.

Tina gingerly began to pet Apolla, slowly and gently. The bird began to shake a bit again, so Tina went slower. Eventually Apolla relaxed again, even leaning into Tina’s hand after a few long minutes. Tina began to truly run her fingers through Apolla’s softly glowing striped plumage, and the bird remained loose and accepting.

Tina sensed Newt coming closer to her side just as she honed in on a ragged feather that seemed in need of removing. She did her very best to remain loose and calm and comforting, and was rewarded when Apolla did not react, appearing to sink deeper into her relaxed doze.

“I might have forgotten to mention last time,” Newt breathed very close to her ear, leaning over her shoulder to see Apolla better. “Don’t just pull. Pulling hurts. Twist the base of the shaft gently – loosen it. It should come without much resistance.”

Tina suppressed a shiver at the breath ghosting over her ear and neck, but she was sure her face was reddening. Still, she kept her hands steady on the bird, focusing on keeping her calm and content as Tina did as Newt had instructed, gently working the feather loose. Apolla cooed.

Tina took a moment to pass the feather – stripes and glow and all – back to Newt over her shoulder.

She caught his eyes for a moment, and the smile in them matched the one on her own face.


End file.
